A Boy Behaving Badly
by curdled-milk
Summary: --or-- How Nishikado Soujiro learned the error of his ways. We all make mistakes,but how do you know when it's time to stop? Sometimes, all it requires is the harsh light of dawn. I was bored, so I changed the name and downgraded the rating.-cm
1. prelude

The Story of My Life

-- or --

How Soujiro Nishikado learned the error of his ways

--

Disclaimer: I do not own HYD. I do not own the characters, nothing. I earn no profits from the posting of this fic. So don't sue me. The plot however, that is mine, all mine. My precious. So don't even think about taking it from me or you will die the death of a thousand ants. (not sure what that's supposed to mean, but who cares? Not me).

--

I'm not a good person. I never said I was. I use women and they use me. Do I feel guilty about it? No, of course not. Why should I? They know what they're getting into. And if they don't, well they should have. It's not like I don't have a reputation, after all. Fear? Yes sometimes. Like that one time when the condom broke and I spent months terrified that the silly chit would end up pregnant, and ruin my life with scandal and claims to my future. Or when I thought I'd caught herpes. Hey, I have perfect skin. How was I supposed to know you can get a groin pimple? Yech. So, yes. Fear. But never guilt.

Here's the thing, I'm eighteen years old, I'm rich, I'm hot, and I'm cool. I have to be. I didn't choose to be rich or hot, but there it is. These things lead to certain responsibilities. I know, in a few years I'll be expected to take my place running the family business, I will be married off to whomever my family feels will provide the best business partnership. I will be respectable; I will be busy. I will be trapped. My every move will be watched, and the slightest deviation could have dire consequences for the corporation. Any hint of scandal could scare off potential partnerships; sink our stock. I'm not stupid. I know this is how it will be. My eyes are open. But now, for these few precious years, I'm a teenager, and no one is watching me. No one cares what I do. No one takes me seriously. I'm flying under the radar now. And I never want this to end. But I know it will, with every day that rushes by.

So yeah, I drink too much, and I party too much, and I spend all my allowance on clothes and booze and expensive hotels. I sleep around constantly. Why not? This is the closest I can come to freedom. This is the only time I can be free. And my time is running out.

They think I'm the laid-back one. They call me a player, and laugh at my exploits. If I were a girl, if I had less money, weren't so devastatingly handsome, they'd call me a slut and spit in my face. It makes me sick. I spend so much time angry, on the cusp of breaking out. I'd love to punch someone the way he does, or yell and throw a tantrum. I'd love to stalk off and sulk. But what would be the point? It wouldn't change a thing. So I smile and I leer, and I joke. You have to have a sense of humor, 'cause without it, this life would honestly be unbearable.

I envy her so much. All the time, I watch, but she doesn't see. If she did, she wouldn't understand. She'd think I was staring at a spot on her face, or criticizing her clothes. Oh yes, I see those things too, but I see more than that. I don't envy her poverty, or her lack of looks. I don't envy her lack of social graces. I envy her strength. What I wouldn't give to be free like her. Free to make my own choices, to be what I make of myself, rather than what society tells me I have to be. Oh, I know, I'm romanticizing. She's poor and has no manners, she's in a relationship that can never last, and her only real hope to escape a life of total drudgery is to sell out and accept our charity. She's not smart enough to get into a great college, and her marks won't win her any scholarships. She is well and truly screwed.

I watch her. I do, I see that she is terrified, every day, of the choices she makes, of the things she does. I see the shame in her eyes at the things people call her, the lies they believe. And yet, she keeps going. She refuses to change for them, for anyone. She is terrified and yet she stays true to herself. As true as she can, and she suffers for it in every way.

Tsukasa doesn't even see that. He doesn't understand why she ran from him for so long, why she refuses his money, his clothes, his way of life. But I know.

I could never be like that. I could never be like her. I hate the life I will be forced to lead, I hate the man I must become. But, I am a coward. I wouldn't know how to live without the money, the respect, the fame. So. There it is. In a nutshell. You know all there is to know about me.

My name is Nishikado Soujiro.

Welcome to my life.

--

Check it out! A non-one shot. First person perspective no less! Yes yes, it is spring. I need to apply for fellowship RSN, I need to get a research mentor (like 3 months ago), I am writing a paper on a topic I despise, and which the "science" behind is basically a non-extant disgrace. I have several talks to give in the next few weeks, and so I am twitchy as all shit. Voila! I punted and wrote something. (This is actually a lie by the way, I started this months ago, and was going to post the entire fic in one go, but it's stuck right now (at 10,000wds), so I'm hoping arbitrarily chopping up into chapters and posting will inspire continuation. So hah! Updates will occur if and when I feel like it! And No! this isn't a Soujiro/Tsukushi fic. Not a bit of it. Nor is it an Akira/Tsukushi fic. So let's not even go there. CM


	2. a night out

- still i do not own hyd. one chapter does not change this fact . . .-

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Tonight it's just me and Akira, out on the prowl

Tonight it's just me and Akira, out on the prowl. These days, it seems it only is the two of us. Tsukasa is away in the States, of course, still. Rui is either at home doing whatever the hell it is he does when he pretends to be tired and ditches us (and don't think I don't know it's just an act. It always has been, and I've always known), or he's off sniffing around Makino like the love-struck puppy dog he is. Pathetic.

And actually, we're not out on the prowl so much as just Out. Akira's girlfriend dumped him. Apparently he was "smothering" her. Seriously, he's my best friend and all, but he's got to remember that unlike the girls in his family, most women can take care of themselves, and need their space. They like a tough guy, like me, a tomcat, aloof, funny, cool. They all think Akira is that too. Until he forgets the F4 act, and reverts to the mush-puddle he is. I'm sorry to sound so harsh, but that's just the way it is.

So yeah, here we are, drinking. Gin, and lots of it. Not looking to score, in fact we've had to make it quite clear in no uncertain terms that any girl who tried getting in our faces would never ever get a chance with me ever again. You'd be impressed how well that works. I was kinda surprised myself. But hey, I won't hit a girl, so you gotta have some sort of threat to make 'em back off.

With every martini, Akira gets a little more maudlin, like the sharp bitterness of the gin is leaching into his soul. I'm going to have to get him home soon before he says some damn fool thing and totally ruins our reputation. 'Cause right now, suave and debonair, he just ain't.

"Ran into Makino last night," he's slurring so badly I have trouble understanding his words.

"Yeah so, you see her all the time at school."

"Looked sad. Think she and Tsukasa are fighting."

"That's totally normal. So what?" I fail to see where this is going.

"Shouldn't be like that."

"With those two? You have got to be kidding. Their entire relationship was built on them kicking the shit out of each other."

"Not healthy."

"Dude, what has gotten into you tonight? Not healthy? So what? They seem ok with it. And it keeps them from fighting everyone else. Healthier for us at any rate. And speaking of not healthy—did you not notice that you just got dumped for your unhealthy coddling of a woman old enough to be your mother? Talk about unhealthy!"

"Older than my mother."

"Even worse." Akira can be such a dumbass sometimes. Especially when he's drunk.

"Should be fucking, not fighting." I can't really argue with that.

"Except Tsukasa's in New York."

"She cries all the time." I hadn't noticed that.

"Makino?" Maybe he means his ex?

"Who else?"

"Dude, you really have been stalking her haven't you?" I'm starting to get a bad feeling now.

"What, do I look like Tsukasa?" I'm hoping that's a no. "I just notice things. And it's wrong."

"It's not your problem." Hell, it's not. Can't be sticking our noses in their business all the time. The world does not revolve around Makino. Honestly!

"I don't like it." I need to get him to change the subject, I really do. I know now where he's going with this, and it is wrong. So terribly fucking wrong. He should be going on about his ex, if anything, not Makino. But he doesn't shut up. I try to change the subject, several times in fact. But, no luck. I buy him more drinks, make jokes, tell stories of my own recent escapades. And still, I see it, that dogged stubborn look in his eye. Akira doesn't get that look often, and I'd like to chalk it up to one too many drinks. But I know him better than that. So I sigh, and state what has become painfully obvious.

"You're in love with her."

He won't say it. He's no fool. Saying it makes it too real. I shouldn't have said it even. It's too close. But what else could I do? It's like poison, you have to acknowledge it before it kills you. And, like poison, he and I both know this could get him killed unless we can purge it from his system. Tsukasa's wrath can kill quicker than any venom. And it's not only him to worry about. We've come to learn that despite his passive exterior, his nonchalant attitude, Rui's rage when it comes to "protecting" Makino is not to be trifled with.

"Dear god almighty," I sigh, fighting the urge to bury my head in my hands. "Why Akira? Why?"

But in the time it took for me to process the fact of this disaster, the last 2 martinis have hit home, and Akira is beyond all reasoning with. _Oh for fuck's sake_, I think. This conversation is going to have to wait. I guess it's an appropriate topic to face on a skull-splitting hangover such as Akira will be sporting tomorrow. I don't need the hangover – I can already feel a headache settling into place like a vise around my skull.

--

-look, i mean i know these are short chapters because i am lame and just mean that way. but still and yet. one single solitary review does not encourage me to post this chapter much less finish the damned fic. geez. I may as well spend the rest of my evenings killling brain cells with my coworkers instead of trying to make you all happy. pffft!! . . . . CM-


	3. you get what you deserve

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gratuitous gratuitousness warning. No really. It's a Soujiro fic, of course there's gratuitousness. It's what he _does_. There will be more in later chapters. And I still don't own diddly-squat except a plot.

--

Morning, well afternoon really. The time when I wake up. Who the fuck cares what the rest of the world calls it? Not me. Despite the conversation with Akira I know I have to have, and the shit that I will desperately have to keep from going down, I am glad to be awake. I had the worst nightmares last night. Makino and Rui and Tsukasa and Akira whirling around in my head, as if the world really did revolve around them after all. And, oh dear god, the things they did in my head. There are times when I almost regret my depths of experience. I am thoroughly disgusted with the images my subconscious has chosen to display, and yet my morning hard-on is up and ready for action. Fuck. Tonight, I promise myself, I'm going to get some action from a hot chick, and I'm going to pound these dreams right out of my head into the oblivion they so richly deserve. In the meantime, I'll allow myself a quick wank before dealing with Akira.

I roll onto my back, flip off the sheets, and slide my hands down my chest. Damn, but I have a good body. Call me narcissistic but I can see why the girls all throw themselves at me. All but a few freaks of nature. Shigeru, Makino. Fuck. Now there's a turn-off. Wasn't going to think of her. Not now. I let my hands wander down to caress my cock. Ahh. . . . that's more like it. I let myself relax into the familiar rhythm, the sliding of my skin, the slippery drops of precum lubricating my hands, the feel of my balls as I tease them. I close my eyes and imagine some babe, naked on her knees sucking me off. Tonight, she will be. Hopefully a girl with a real deep throat. I'm angry at my dreams, and angry at Akira, and tonight I'm going to be rough and take my pleasure. Hard fast and vicious. Just the thought of it, and few final strokes, and I can feel my balls tightening. Release flows through me like lightning. Ahhh. . . So much better. I let myself bask for a few moments as I relax in the aftermath. Now I feel I can face my duty. I clean myself off quickly and head for the shower.

After a long shower and a few cups of coffee, I feel it's time to wake Akira. Best to deal with him now, before he actually gets any more stupid ideas in that lame brain of his.

Last night I dragged him off to one of our spare rooms, and now I stalk in to find him already awake, the blinds pulled down, cradling his head in his hand and trying to force himself to sip at a glass of water.

"Dude," I shake my head, "You should have thought of that last night."

"Oh, fuck off." He won't even look at me.

"Not gonna." I close the door, and sit on the floor a few feet away from where he slouches on the bed. From this angle I can sort of peer up at his face, though his stupid girly hair keeps getting in the way.

"Asshole." He sighs wearily, and deigns to look in my eyes. Bloodshot, defeated, his expression says it all. "I'm so screwed."

"You really are." I can't afford pity. I've got a job to do.

"What am I going to do?"

"You're going to walk away as fast as you can. Duh."

"But."

"But What?"

"She needs. . . ."

"She needs us out of her life." It's the simple truth. "All of us, Tsukasa, Rui, You, me, Shigeru, Sakurako. Everyone. She needs to be someplace where she belongs. That girl does not belong in our world, nor we in hers!"

"But. . ."

"No buts. Don't be stupid. Haven't you seen the damage that Tsukasa has done to her? Between him, his mother, and Rui, it's a miracle that stupid girl is still alive. Much less talking to any of us.

"Sure, she's amusing, but the novelty fades. And her problems are not ours. Nothing we can do will help her. And she wouldn't want our help anyway. So back the hell off. Whatever you're thinking, whatever you're feeling, it's wrong. All wrong."

He levels a long stare at me, gazing as deeply as he can with those bleary eyes. He sighs, a long and weary sound. "I know," He says, and has the grace to look ashamed. "How do you do it?" I know what he means. Of the four of us, how am I the only one to remain unaffected by her, to not lose my way, distracted by her strange quirks and charms? It's not that I'm not affected, per se, I just have better self-control, I know how to channel and misdirect. I know how to become the part I play. I can't afford to care deeply about anyone. I can't afford to let myself be affected by the life I lead. I have to be above all this, waiting for the day when it all ends. I have to keep my distance so that I can become the man my family intends for me to be.

I suppose, if I were weak, if I let myself go, I could fall into the same trap as they. Caring too much. Feeling too much. But it will never happen. I can't let that happen. I say none of this. I can't. Not even to Akira. Not to anyone. Ever.

I glare at him, wishing I could read his mind. "She's just a girl." I shrug and muster as much disdain as I can, "What's the big deal?" He's still looking at me, I almost believe he can see right through me, "Look, go to one of the middle class schools, pick out a random girl there, and see. You're just fascinated because she's not like us."

I, of course, have had my share of middle class girls. Sarah, Yuki. That's quite enough for me.

"You never change, do you?" Akira shakes his head at me in disbelief.

"Why should I?" I fold my arms across my chest, knowing that I sound too defensive, and hating myself for it. I wish I could just smack some sense into him, beat him black and blue until he sees. I'd love a little ass kicking right now. Maybe I'll pick a girl with a boyfriend tonight, and fuck her in the VIP lounge. When he sees her come out all disheveled and smelling of my cologne, my sweat and . . . yeah. That's always great for a fight. "I know what's important, and I'm not going to make myself into a fool over a woman I can't have." Not again. Not ever again.

Finally, Akira looks away, "I know you're just trying to help," he sighs, "and I promise I'll try to forget it."

"You'd better." I nod shortly, and leave, feeling infinitely frustrated. Well, that got me a whole lot of nowhere.

Behind me, out of the corner of my eye, I see Akira, slumping back into bed with a pained groan. I suppose I should take pity on him and have the servants bring him some aspirin and more water.

But I'd rather see him suffer for his sins.

While he spends the day nursing his hangover, I head out, looking for a quick fuck, and / or a fight, whichever comes first. Either way, it'll keep me from punching Akira in his whining, moping, hungover face.


	4. My second favorite pastime

--

yes, I changed the title, and downgraded the rating (why? See the note at the bottom of the chapter.) And no, I still do not own HYD. Did you really think that would change?

--

Later that week, I decide to go to school. Not like I like going to school, but I've spent the past few days working. Yeah, working. You think all the time I'm punting school I'm sitting around drunk off my ass? Hell no. Like I said. I got responsibilities. I'm learning the ropes of the business. My father has had me learning the tea ceremony shit since I could talk. That's the easy part. Traditional ritual. Strict interpretation of aesthetics. I can do it in my sleep. (And don't think I'm dissing on the tea ceremony. I'm not. I'd love it if I didn't have to mix it with business. There are some traditions that are worth keeping. But I can't stand catering to our clients, sitting by as they fuck around, making stupid mistakes in the ceremony, or being so perfectly polite when you can see their disdain, their avarice in every glint of their beady little eyes.)

I digress. My father thought I should learn the company from the ground up. I started when I was five or so, helping around the mailroom. I could tell the employees hated me. Thought I was sent as some kind of spy in their midst. And I guess I probably was. I learned quickly that our class is despised as selfish and greedy, that obedience and respect do not necessarily go hand in hand. I too obey, but I do not always respect. As I grew older I gained more responsibilities. I spent time on the production lines in our factories, I did secretarial work, I interned in various offices of our subsidiaries. I networked. I spent time managing some smaller subdivisions. Etc. etc. etc. you name it, I probably did it. So yeah, I missed a lot of school. But that's what tutors are for. With a life like this, is it any wonder that I like to unwind with a martini and a beautiful woman?

So Anyway, I went to school. Akira and Rui and I sort of have an agreed-on schedule for when we all try to meet up, on the rare days we can all get free from our responsibilities and pretend to be "normal" like all the other spoiled rich kids at Eitoku. It was a nice day out, so Rui and I were hanging out in the college café patio, sipping smoothies and watching the college chicks strut by. Well, I was watching at any rate, I can't vouch for Rui.

I was watching this one girl walk away, ass swaying in tight, tight jeans, when I see them approaching. These perfect legs. Long and slim and tanned to perfection. No need for stockings on this babe. Expensive shoes, gleamingly pedicured toenails peeking out. I do appreciate a girl who knows how to dress. Slowly I follow the pillars of her legs up and up, to the rounded curve of her hips, the taut belly, those full, firm breasts, tantalizing décolletage . . . to rest on the serene features of Shizuka.

Damn. Should've known from the shoes. Ah well, still, eye candy is eye candy, even if it's not beddable.

I glance at Rui, wondering what kind of terms he and Shizuka are on these days, but he seems as imperturbable as ever.

"Rui! Soujiro!" She squeals, yes squeals. I know, the perfect epitome of grace and high-class perfection is a squealer. I doubt she'd let anyone but her friends see that side of her. I wonder if she squeals during sex too? I bet Rui would kill me if I asked.

"Shizuka." Rui greets her noncommittally, his blank gray eyes giving nothing away, as she stoops to kiss us in greeting. I do so appreciate the European style. Also the tantalizing, light scent of her perfume.

She flashes one of her patented sincerely happy-seeming smiles at us, as if she traveled all this way just to sit in a café with us. Or maybe just with Rui. I see the way he's looking at her as she settles in, taking over the conversation effortlessly, steering it onto innocuous topics, catching up with what's been going on in everyone's lives. Never once letting him slip in a word edgewise, about why she might be here. I know Rui's looks, and she does too, but hell, if the woman didn't want to deal with him, and whatever past history they've shared that he refuses to talk about, then she shouldn't have come back. Rui turns his gaze at me, and I can see from the slightest twitch of his jaw that he is holding back. I think that's my cue to leave, let the two ex-lovers fight it out. Or whatever it is they do. I wouldn't expect either of them to act like normal exes. Ostentatiously, I check my watch, and make my excuses, regretfully. Places to be, things to do, you know.

And then I make my way upstairs to the café balcony, to indulge in my second favorite pastime: spying.

The view is not perfect, and the wind isn't quiet right to catch the whole conversation, but I reconstruct the scene in my mind, filling in the gaps as best I can. . .

He stares at her as I saunter away, the question plain in the stoniness of his gaze. Why is she here? And what does she want?

"What, I can't come visit my favorite boy?" she tinkles coquettishly. Even I could have told her not to bother. Rui may be socially inept, but he's not stupid.

"Who was it this time?" His voice is deadpan, a statement, not a question.

She sighs, probably batting her eyelashes at him. Trying to soften him up. "The prime minister's nephew."

"And?"

"Well, I couldn't just say no, now could I?" she laughs deprecatingly, as if it is all so obvious.

He's weighing her, judging, as if he were the elder, he the wiser in the ways of the world, and not she.

"What do you want?" he sighs, and he sounds old beyond his years.

"I just came to see you, to visit my parents." She remains obstinate, but he is having none of it.

"I'm not that boy anymore, Shizuka. I'm not your toy." And yet there is very little rancor there, merely tiredness, "You can't keep on like this." I wonder, keep on like what? Fortunately, he continues, a veritable monologue from our normally silent Rui. "How many times is it now? And every time you do the same thing, you say yes, and then you think better of it, and you come running back until everything blows over, and then you do it all again. Why do you do it? And why must you always come back to me?"

She looks at him sadly, as if dismayed to find this Man, this stranger ranting at her in such a quiet way, about her failings. Isn't she the one everyone looks up to? Perfect in every way?

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." She admits, or at least I think that's what I hear her say, "I tell them all at the beginning, I'm not looking for commitment, I just want a companion, a friend."

"With benefits." Rui states unnecessarily.

"Well, of course." She shrugs, "I'm busy with law school, and managing the charities. I'm not looking for a husband!" Of course she's not. What would she want one of those for? This is Toudou Shizuka, heir to the Toudou fortune, who ended her modeling career and cut off all her hair to go into law, so that she could, as she said, do non-profit work to make the world a better place. Toudou Shizuka who had the world on a platter, whose doting parents supported her decision, and continue to pay her bills, despite her waywardness. Toudou Shizuka, who has always gotten what she wanted. Always. Toudou Shizuka, the supremely self-assured, self-confident, and self-contained. Toudou Shizuka, who has never been hurt.

Perhaps that is only because she is incapable of feeling enough for her fellow man to be hurt? She likes pretty things. She cares in a general way about humanity and the planet. But specifics? It's hard for me to think of a single thing that she's taken seriously in the years that I've known her.

And now she's broken yet another engagement.

Of course. A husband would tie her down. Crimp her style. She might actually have to compromise for once in her life.

So she's come back here to hide, while it all blows over. If she was looking for sympathy from Rui, she doesn't seem to have found it.

"You could have just said no." he says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"It was in such a public place, though." She sighs, "It would have made such a scene."

"And this is better?" He raises an eyebrow, the only facial expression he will allow himself.

She shrugs gracefully, "Either way, I'd still break his heart." She does have a point. "I just don't know how it always gets so far" She genuinely seems at a loss. "I don't tell them I love them. I thought it was understood that I didn't."

"But still, they love you." again, not a question. Rui knows. He's been there. And he left her, when he finally realized she didn't love him. Or so Akira says. I always maintain that he found out about her other boyfriends, but Akira says I'm too cynical. Me! He's the gigolo. Either way, Rui's never told us for sure, so we're just guessing.

On the other hand, people do often mistake lust for love, and she is gracious and polite, and kind to things she pities. She was always kind to Makino. I could always see the pity lurking in her bland blue eyes. I guess some might mistake those things to mean she cares for them.

"So they say." She is trying to keep it light, though she looks weary. "I don't want to fight with you. Rui, can't you just let it be. Like the way we used to be?" That's right, pretend the past never happened. Pretend that she hadn't used him, hadn't helped to destroy the last of his innocence.

"It's too late for us." Rui's voice is flat. "Why are you really here?"

She glances at her perfectly manicured nails, lifts her eyes to look directly into his. Her voice, when she speaks, is light and carefree, so one would hardly know it's forced. "I wanted to ask you to come back to Paris with me."

I flinch, and almost feel bad for her then, when he laughs. I so rarely hear Rui laugh, unless he's in Makino's company. And this laugh, it's not forced at all. It's the same heartfelt laugh of amusement he uses when Makino has done something particularly endearing.

She looks shocked, but quickly hides it behind her perfect façade of casualness, as his laughter cuts off abruptly.

"No. I will not."

I wonder if Rui will be the first to hurt her.

But now he surprises me, as he starts to speak, before she can even open her mouth. "You want a companion, someone to fend off the admirers when they get too close, but who you can ignore while you're having your affairs. I cannot be that man for you. I can't not care. I won't be kept. Besides, I've got responsibilities here. Why don't you ask Akira, or Soujiro. They're bored. Maybe you can convince one of them to come to Paris with you, instead."

He's got to be joking. Right? He doesn't sound like he's joking. And neither he nor Shizuka is laughing.

This I gotta tell Akira.

--

Title change? Yes, I was bored. I may change it again, we'll see. Like this one better? Worse? Got a better idea? Lemme know.

Rating change? I was thinking. I probably should stop doing that. thinking rots your brains! I published WW Idiots under T rating, maybe I shouldn't've, but I did. This isn't any worse. There are swears, and sex. I think if you can't handle either of those then you probably are entirely capable of stopping reading. Deal with it. And if I offend, then you need to spend some more time in the real world. And that's all I have to say. except for this – Review Damnit!

-cm


	5. Conniving

--

Here you go. Next chapter. and i still own nothing.

--

A few days later, I haven't seen Rui, or Shizuka since that day in the café. I reported the conversation to Akira. I thought the gossip might cheer him up. He laughed, but told me I must've misheard their conversation. Ah well, perhaps he's correct. Still, it's a little odd. In the past, when Shizuka came to visit, she'd come drink with us, dance, party, live it up. Of course, that was when we were the F4, and Rui loved her with everything he had. I feel dirty even thinking about it. Rui and love, that is. It's creepy. At least it seemed so at the time.

I'm thinking about all this, when I happen to encounter Makino. By which, of course, I mean I tracked her down at that disgusting burger shop she works for, and pretended to be a customer. She sees me, and gives a little wave. I remember when the very sight of one of us in her territory would make her so defensive that I swear steam would come out of her ears. Now, she wanders over and sits down across from me, with very little hesitation at all. Fortunately the joint is not busy, or she would light into me for disturbing her. Instead, she merely asks me if I'd like a burger.

"Argh, No! You know those make me sick!" I can't help it. Ground beef and gristle and god only knows what. So gross! She laughs and sticks her tongue out at me. "Careful there," I tease with a suggestive leer, "Keep that up and I just might bite that tongue of yours off."

"And that's less gross than a burger how?" She lifts an eyebrow, and for a moment reminds me uncannily of Rui. Sometimes I miss the days when she'd blush and get all flustered.

"You have a point." I concede, "Have you seen Rui around? I was kinda bored tonight, but he's not returning my calls." He really is terrible about that. What's the point of a mobile if you can't be bothered to answer it?

"No," her pouting lips form a brief moue of discontent, before her eyes go carefully blank and shuttered. "I think he's with Shizuka." Almost for a second I think I hear jealousy and disapproval in her voice. But I could just be hallucinating.

"Really?"

"Yeah." She jerks her head over in a corner of the room where a TV plays silently. "Saw it on the news, big drama in Paris, Japanese heiress spurns fiancé, yada yada."

"Heh, But you haven't seen her?"

"No." Now she looks genuinely surprised, "Why would I?"

"Huh? I thought you two were friends? She always seemed to like you." Unless, the Rui thing? I never was too good at understanding jealousy.

But now she's laughing.

"I fail to see what is so funny." Honestly.

"She never liked me." Makino shakes her head as if I'm the fool here. I'm supposed to be the cultured one, and her the socially inept klutz. Hmph. "Oh come on, Nishikado. Don't look so surprised. I was a project to her." There's a bitter twist to her lips now, but then she's been our project too for so long. . . "A poor commoner she found being bullied by the nasty, evil, immature F4. So she played dress up with me, and dragged me places I didn't belong, to show that she cared about the little people in the world. The downtrodden and helpless." If she keeps up, I'm afraid this rant will escalate into a full scale yell.

"I. . .I hadn't thought of it that way." Though in retrospect, I probably should have.

"Course not." She shrugs, as if she'd never expected more of me, "I think she was also hoping to drive Rui away. But," she breathes in deeply and calms herself, "that's water under the bridge now."

"You don't like her either?" I thought everyone liked Shizuka.

"I don't like what she did to Rui." Of course, the fallout had hurt her too. "This is the third time she's come back, and every time Rui gets. . . ."

"Moody. Yeah." Three times? Three times? I thought this was only her second broken engagement. Maybe it's time to change the subject. I think I've got about seven minutes before her break is over, and there's still one more thing I wanted to ask about.

"How's Tsukasa?"

She shrugs again, and her eyes get distant, "Busy."

"Busy?" That's it? That's all she's going to say?

"Well, yeah." I see her jaw tighten and her lips thin. Getting worked up about something. "Think the bitch has been snooping around his email again."

"Really?" I try to get a word in edgewise, but she's bulldozing on, off in her own little world.

"I tell him and I tell him, lock the computer when he's not in the office. Get the IT guys to change the system root password. I bet that evil woman sneaks in that way too. God she makes me so fucking mad." She pauses for air, and looks me in the eye. Glares, really. "He was supposed to come visit. He promised. We had it all planned. And then there was this meeting she decided he had to chair, a quarter's worth of something to review. And she wanted it done day before yesterday, so of course he can't take the time to fly half-way around the world just to see his girlfriend!" her face is red with frustration, and she looks near tears. "If this were the first time, ok I could believe it. But I'm not stupid! Every time he tries to come home, she interferes!" she sniffles. "Is it so much to ask to see him twice a year? Once even?"

Ah. I get it now. The tears Akira was so concerned about. I was right. She just misses the big idiot. My momentary triumph at having guessed correctly surges, and falters. There's nothing I can do to help her, short of putting her on a plane to New York. And I won't do that. Even if she was willing to accept charity from me. I'm not a nice person, but I will not try to take away her pride. Not when it's all the girl has.

"Akira did mention that you seemed . . . weepy . . . recently." I offer

"Akira. Hah!" she sniffs. "Akira's an idiot."

"You noticed?"

She rolls her eyes at me. Glances at the clock, and startles. "Shit, I gotta get back to work!" I look around. Place is still empty, by my watch she still has five minutes left on break. I'm not buying it.

"Huh." I grab her arm as she makes to stand. "Akira." It's not a question. She avoids my eyes. "You noticed." I'm not going to say it first.

Reluctantly, she sits, looking over her shoulder as if a means of escape will present itself from that direction. "Makino. . . ."

"What?" She glares, "What? What do you want me to say? Yes, I noticed. I'm not a complete idiot. Oh I know what you all say, I'm so blind I wouldn't notice a giant flying elephant until it hit me in the face. Well, let me tell you. . ." She's waving an angry finger in my face. Strangely, I don't feel in the least bit threatened. "Ok, so I've been blind before. But I can learn. I'm not stupid. I see the way he hovers. I recognize that look!"

"Rui told you." I cut her off, certainty growing in my mind. She just glares mutinously and admits nothing.

"What the hell wrong with him?" she demands, "It's freaking me out. I can't talk to him. Hell I can't even be around him without wanting to hit him. I love Doumyouji. I don't need this. I don't want this. I'm not even as old as the idiot, much less fall into his usual age range. What the hell?"

She's pissed. I think that's good.

"Would it help if Akira. . . went away for a while?"

"How do you mean?" She looks at me suspiciously. "What are you planning?"

"Me? Nothing?" I spread my hands, as innocently as I can, which, I admit, isn't very. "I just overheard something the other day, and there may be an opportunity for him to go to Europe."

"Europe?" She taps one calloused finger thoughtfully against her lower lip. "Do European women go for his type? Are they his?"

I have to admit, it's strange to hear her talk like this. Maybe we've worn off on her a little too well.

"All women are his type."

"Hah. He doesn't date the same sort of skanks you do."

"Hmph." I pretend to be offended, but I know I fuck loose women. It's easier that way and I don't care, "At least they're not old enough to be my mother."

"Eww." Her nose scrunches up, and I see her picturing Akira with some wizened old hag. Just the thought of it makes me queasy too. Suddenly Makino startles, and her eyes widen. "Wait. . . Europe?" I almost hear the gears shifting in her head. "Paris? Does this have anything to do with Shizuka?"

"When did you get so paranoid?"

"The day I met you lot. Tell me the truth now, Nishikado or I'll force you to eat a stale burger." She looks serious about it. Gross.

"I. . . overheard. . . purely by accident, mind you. . . Shizuka say something about asking for one of us to come back to Paris with her, as a sort of escort."

"Rui?" She tries to hide the wince in her voice as she asks the question.

"Turned her down flat." I grin cheekily, "And told her to ask us. Akira and me."

"And did she?" Her eyes are wide. Such a mercurial girl

"Not yet." I'm smug. Confident, "But she will."

"You're terrible!" But I can tell she's not mad, though she kind of looks as though she thinks she should be, if you know what I mean. She gets this thoughtful look as she stands to leave, and I wish I could read her mind.

"You can thank me later!" I call after her

"What for?"

"For taking care of the Akira problem, of course."

She sticks her tongue out at me again, but I think it's a reflex to the taunt in my voice, for her eyes are already blank and far away. I snap my teeth back at her, but she doesn't even notice. Just a few months ago, that would have made her blush and stammer, or hit me. Sometimes it makes me sad; our little Makino is growing up.

--

Isn't all ffic by definition brainmushy? I thought so. Helps keep me from hallucinating about work (literally, when I close my eyes I can still sometimes see the cases I was working on all day, oh the horror! I just don't know if writing literary crap is really the best way to deal. Nevertheless, here I go again. cm)


	6. another night

In the end, she asks, of course.

Shizuka, I mean.

To go to Paris with her.

I don't know what Rui said to her, or what she really thinks she needs one of us for. And I don't care. The only problem is that she asks me. Not Akira.

--

I'm eating dinner with my girlfriend of the week. Beneath the table, hidden by heavy white damask cloth, her clever, clever toes caress my cock. I think she's trying to make me lose my composure, and is getting frustrated by my lack out outward response. Hell, I'm not going to let anything show, the more she works, the more I'm enjoying this. Just got to be careful not to let it go too far-- wouldn't want to ruin my pants. And two can play that game. I do so enjoy the things you can get away with in public without anyone knowing. I slip my shoe off, caress her calf, her thigh. I've barely started and already her face is flushing. It's too easy.

"Dessert?" I ask. It's cliché, but she's not so bright, and I'm not about to waste good lines on her.

"Yes, please." She gasps breathily as I continue to tease, her own endeavors faltering, stumbling, and finally ceasing.

I summon the waiter with a practiced flick of my wrist, collect the check and pay. We head over to a nearby hotel, where I've already checked into a room. I'm feeling a little melancholy, having not seen Rui or Akira in a few days, and having only run into Shizuka this morning, with her proposition, so I desperately need a little release to take my mind off things.

My girlfriend is only too happy to oblige, making short work of removing my shirt and pants, and pouncing on me, like she just can't get enough of me. And who can blame her? I am just that hot. She straddles me, and slowly, seductively unbuttons her blouse, slides it from her shoulders, and unclasps her bra. I love her breasts, the soft fullness of them, the responsive flesh of the nipples, the way they fit against my hands and taste against my tongue. She likes the things I can do to her, and her hips are already starting to flex against mine. I slide my hands lower, caress her hips, her thighs, and pull her firm ass harder against me, intending to divest her of her scratchy skirt and that sexy thong I know she's wearing underneath. She has other ideas, however, and slides down my body, to put her mouth to good use. This girl knows what she's doing, knows just the right places to slide her tongue, exactly how much pressure, and how hard to nibble. Her hands are soft and supple as she strokes me, and I know she will swallow when I come. It's almost a pity I will dump her in four more days.

She's hot and wet and oh-so-skilled, and it doesn't take long for the waves of pleasure to spread throughout my body. Even as I shudder and regain control of my muscles, she's sliding up my body, and I hungrily pull her face up to mine and kiss her deeply. I can taste myself on her, and I feel myself start to harden again already. It's good to be young and virile. She's moaning against me, eager and unashamed, as she slides the condom on. I deftly slip between her legs, stroking against her, teasing her, before allowing myself to push inside. She's slick and tight in all the right ways, as I start to move. Slow, deep, sweet. I know I'm in a weird mood, that makes me take extra care tonight, lavishing her with more attention than I probably should. But she's a sweet girl, if a little dumb, so why not? What's the point if she doesn't enjoy it as much as I? She's grinding against me, her eyes shut, her breathing fast and labored, as I fill her and stroke her, and send her over the edge. She quivers around me, her face going blank and blissfully sated, and I follow her soon after.

Afterwards, she wants to cuddle. I'm not usually into it, but I know that after I leave her tonight, I'll have to go deal with some paperwork for my father, so I stay a little while. I guess it's not that bad, spooning a warm woman, skin on skin, my hand stroking her belly, her breasts, my nose tickled by her perfumed hair. Still, it's one of those things that always makes me feel vaguely uncomfortable – like it's too intimate, too much like caring, to hold her in this way. I mean, it's not like I know this girl, what she likes (outside of the bedroom), what her dreams are, what makes her who she is. And I don't care. I don't really want to know her. I don't want the complication. I don't even know if I actually like her, or just her body. Cuddling seems to me to imply an interest in all of these messy details. As such, it is a thing to be avoided lest I get her hopes up. So it is almost a relief when my phone rings.

"Don't answer it." She mumbles, as I reach for my pants and dig out the phone.

"Sorry, babe. This is a call I gotta take." I can tell by the ring tone that it's Rui, finally returning my message. "Hey man, 'sup?" I know I sound more casual than I feel. It takes years of practice to sound so laid back, even while my mind is scheming relentlessly. While he answers, I take the opportunity to pull my pants on, and stroll out to the balcony, away from the listening ears of my girlfriend.

"So, she asked you?"

"Yes. Dude, what the hell?"

"I thought. . . ." It's strange to hear Rui at a loss for words. He may not speak much, but when he does he almost always speaks precisely, knows exactly how to phrase what he wants to say. He pauses, recovers "I thought she'd ask Akira."

"Heh." I snort, "What, you don't trust me around your ex?"

He laughs then, that peculiarly amused laugh that always seems strangely out of place coming from him. "No, Soujiro, it's not that at all. Shizuka is immune to your 'charms,' as you well know."

"What did you tell her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Rui, don't play games with me!" I rub my forehead in frustration, "You've noticed the same Akira problem I have, haven't you? So what did you tell Shizuka to try to convince her to bring Akira? Come on, you can tell me. Besides, I need to know so I figure out how your plan backfired and what to do to fix it."

Tersely he explains. When he's done, I can't help but laugh. It should have worked. Maybe Shizuka is just perverse. Or maybe this is her way to get back ay Rui for refusing her. That's probably it, the fury of a woman scorned. Who would've thought the ever-so-perfect Toudou Shizuka would be so petty?

"Eh. It doesn't matter." I let myself project a lazy confidence that I only sort of feel. "She asked me instead. So what? I can go, and Akira can come to keep me company. Then she can have a choice who to parade around with next time she needs to ditch a beau."

"Yeah. Right."

"And this way, I can keep an eye on him, make sure he finds himself a nice French girl to distract him."

"And Shizuka?"

"Will do what she wants regardless of whether we go back with her or not." And that's the simple truth. All this scheming and subterfuge is stupid. Why can't we send Akira away without pretending it's for someone else's benefit? Why should I have to go play babysitter to a spoiled woman who can't accept the responsibility of dumping a man for herself. It's all a bloody stupid mess. My post-coital high has been replaced by the need to punch something. Anything. The wall suffices as I flick my phone shut.

By the time I reenter the room, my knuckles are bleeding and raw, and my phone is ruined. Tsukasa's not the only one of us who has a temper. Fortunately, my girlfriend has dressed and vanished, leaving me a note which reads: Had to run, call me! I wonder if she saw me through the glass, or if she really did have places to be?

Doesn't matter now, I have plans to prepare.


	7. departure

It's surprisingly easy to convince my father to send me to Paris. We do have controlling interest in several firms there, and it's high time they got a visit from the boss man. Who knows what kind of slack can creep into the system when complacency sets in? Who knows what sort of corruption and embezzlement are fostered when a company has been bought out and the drive to succeed fizzles out? I know. I've been well taught. So, there's my excuse. I'm almost afraid father is reading more into it than that. He's got this peculiar gleam in his eyes, and for just a second I wonder if he knows that I'm going back with Shizuka. If he even so much as tries to suggest an alliance with the Toudou clan through us there is going to be big trouble. I can't afford to worry about that right now, though. Life is just too damned short.

It's harder to convince Akira to tag along. He's not interested in vacation, his family doesn't need (or want) him to oversee any of their interests overseas, so why should he want to go? In the end Rui and I have to resort to blackmail. We threaten to tell Tsukasa about his unnatural interest in Makino. We threaten to fill his sisters full of candy and set them loose on him with their mother's make-up kit. I threaten to tell his father about Akira's affair with his secretary. Yeah, I fight dirty, but that's just the way it goes. He agrees eventually, of course. I'd like to believe that it was my threats that did the trick, but I know it's more likely that he just got tired of my nagging. I can be a pest if I have to.

I think Shizuka was a bit peeved when I told her he was coming. But I didn't fucking care. She's using me as a pawn in her little games, then I'll use her to help drag my friend out of a stupid situation. Quid pro quo, yo.

--

We're in the airport, waiting for our flight. Yes, we fly commercial. We're not all as rich as Tsukasa to have an airfleet at our beck and call. Rui and Makino have come to see us off. Rui stands silent and stoic behind Makino, almost as if she is a shield to protect him from Shizuka. I swear he flinches when Shizuka leans in to kiss him farewell. I wish I could see Makino's expression then, but she's turned away from me. Eventually she turns back, and awkwardly offers us her goodbyes. She looks a little lonely. Who knew the little working girl had it in her to miss us? What have we ever done to make her look like she might cry at our departure? Fuck it, I hate long goodbyes.

"Makino."

"Hmm?"

"Don't let Rui get into trouble while we're gone."

"Like he would!" Akira scoffs at my remark, but Makino smiles weakly in reply

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good girl. Rui, it's up to you, man, you gotta keep discipline around Eitoku while we're gone. Don't let the Peons forget who's boss!"

"Ummm.. . ." He looks dubious.

"Keep in touch!" Makino interrupts suddenly. "Just because you're going away doesn't mean you idiots can't call. If Doumyouji can figure out how to make an international call, surely you idiots can too? Or the internet? Geez. Go, go have your fun and do what you have to do, but if you don't let us know what sort of trouble you're getting into, I will never forgive you!"

"Yes Mother." Akira and I respond in unison.

"Good, now get on your plane! You're going to be late." Trust Makino to hide her feelings behind a tyrannical façade. And she wonders why she reminds me of Tsukasa. Rui squeezes her shoulder and grunts a monosyllabic goodbye as Akira and I follow Shizuka to the gate. What good little lapdogs we all are.

On the plane, we're in business class, of course. Akira and I are sitting together. Shizuka is a row or two behind. There's one cute flight attendant on board today. I'm bored, so I flirt with her, and it isn't long before she asks me if I want to join the mile-high-club. I joined several years ago, but she doesn't need to know that, and I accompany her to the ridiculously small lavatory. She's tall and leggy and it's a tight fit for the both of us to squeeze in there, but she knows just how to make maximum use of the space. It's not long before her skirt is hiked up around her waist, my jeans pulled down just far enough for comfort. I've got her shirt partly unbuttoned and her breasts hanging out, nipples playing peek-a-boo behind her lace bra. She wraps her long sleek legs around me and we fuck, fast and hard and dirty. She's clawing at my back, and I'm leaving hickeys on her neck and on the exposed flesh of her breasts. I swear our panting breaths, the wet slap of flesh on flesh has to be audible throughout the entire cabin, but I don't care. I bring her off quickly with a few extra swivels of my hips, and a few nibbles on the sensitive skin beneath her ear, before I let myself come. She giggles and we adjust our clothes. It's a damned good thing she's got a neckerchief to wear to cover the bruises. She slips her phone number in the back pocket of my jeans as we leave, copping an extra feel of my fine ass in the process. The other stewardesses either give her the thumbs up and me a once over as I return to my seat, or glare at our audacity. Shriveled old prunes. I wink and grin at my admirers. I hope they enjoyed listening to our show.

Akira glares at me.

"You're go going to get in trouble if you keep on like that."

"Like what?" I feign innocence

"Fucking anything that even so much as looks at you."

"Oh come on. I'm not hurting anyone."

"You'll get an STD."

I have nothing to say to that. He's probably right, but I needed some stress relief, and it felt good. I'm not apologizing to anyone for what I do. I use condoms, and he knows it. Just because he only dates older women doesn't make him any more safe than me.

He's killed the good mood I just sweated so hard to create, and I spend the rest of the flight trying to sleep. It's impossible though, the scratches in my back are sore and my spine aches from the contortions sex in the lavatory required. I'm getting too old for this. The thought just depresses me more.

--filler chapter, yes it is. Bridges are sometimes necessary. Deal with it. And let me just say, 100 hits to the last chapter and not a single review? That is just sad. Why do I bother with the updates? What? Is it the lack of the word "smirk" anywhere in this fic except in this author's note? Where did I go wrong? Ask me if I care, but if the read:review ratio continues to suck out there will be no more update. next chapter if i think you deserve it i will give you plot. or not.


	8. Paris

Paris. Glittering. Beautiful. Superficial. Shallow. A fitting city for our darling Shizuka. There are parties, clubs, famous, glamorous people. All the finest vintages of wine. All the finest faces and bodies that money can buy. All the latest fashions.

I'm bored. Every party is an Event. To see and be seen. To pose and strut, and scheme.

I'm bored. The women are attractive, sure. All women are. But these are obsessed with their clothes. I mean, honestly, the number of girls I've fucked who refuse to take their ridiculous lace panties and bras off is insane. Who puts all their sexual self-esteem in the clothes they wear? Yes, they're hot in them, but they're hot clothed only in skin too. Except for those whose augmentation scars are too obvious.

I'm bored. Work is a joke. When I first arrived, it was a challenge at least. The corporate zombies and lifers who were running our subsidiaries weren't interested in listening to me. I couldn't tell if it was because of my age, or because I wasn't French. For instance, I have perfect French. It's even better than my English, but those petty assholes kept pretending to not understand me. So I finally got fed up and got myself an interpreter. One who could make the most innocuous of statements sound patronizing, one who communicated my fiats as if talking to 5 year olds. I admit it, I was as petty as them. I didn't rise above. But I got the job done. I found out what the weaknesses were, what wasteful procedures lingered on due to tradition, and what projects were a waste of our R and D budget. I spent a great deal of time telling those old geezers that I didn't care what their objections were, and neither would my father, that they would implement my policies or else. A bit high-handed, sure, but sometimes that's what you have to do.

Now I just spend all my days trying to make sure my commands are being carried out. It's like trying to run a secret police in a country of subversives. I don't understand why these people defend their little corporate fiefdoms so hard. Obstruction for the sake of obstruction is stupid and tedious. But that's what I deal with day in and day out. My only consolation is that things are slowly but surely starting to shape up. Already I start to look forward to getting the hell out of here.

I'm bored. Every day is the same, and I drift through it aimlessly. What happened to enjoying my youth? What happened to flying under the radar? There's plenty of sex, of course. I use women and they use me. But it isn't the same. Almost a chore, and not a rebellion. I feel obligated to go out, to party, and where's the fun in that? During the day, I am caught up in the web of industrial intrigue. During the night, I am caught up in the web of romantic intrigue. I'm good at both, of course. But it's just another rut to be stuck in. a rut of rutting, if you will.

I feel trapped. I feel my life closing in on me. I feel my options narrowing. Is this how it ends? Is this how I become my father? Cold and gray, powerful and numb?

Is this my life?

--

I hardly see Shizuka, and that's just fine with me. We cross paths at parties, and clubs, and I give her beau of the day a once over, lift my eyebrow at her choice, and pass on.

Akira is sulking. He doesn't want to be here, and it shows. The women love him, though. I guess having a young gigolo is a status symbol these days. Especially one that is as witty as Akira. For once, his sulking works in his favor, it makes him look moody and mysterious. And his self-involved pouting means he doesn't moon over his women, mothering them to death.

The weeks pass, some at a run, some at a crawl. I feel myself drifting. Work and sex and booze, the days all run together. I keep my word and email Makino occasionally, call Rui. I can't tell if they're lonely, if they're happy that we're gone. Makino is determinedly upbeat in her mails, she says she's got yet another part time job on the weekend, and that Rui is helping her keep up with her school work. She doesn't mention Tsukasa much except to say that his mother is still keeping him in New York. Rui, well Rui is Rui, he doesn't mention much of anything at all.

I'm cleaning out my inbox, late one Saturday night, smiling at the nonsense Makino writes to me, the gossip from school that she passes on. I was too tired to go on a date tonight, but now I can't sleep. I'd call Akira, but I haven't seen him in two weeks and I don't want to deal with the possibility of him being in a mood. Rui is just not distracting enough, and Tsukasa is probably still at work. So I decide to call Makino. Why not? She said I could, after all.

It's mid-morning back home, and she answers after a few rings.

"Nishikado?"

"Yo, Makino, 'Sup?"

"You know, the usual." She sounds evasive. And tired. "How are you? Surviving France ok? Having fun being Shizuka's go-to boy? How's Mimasaka?"

"France is totally overrated. I'm avoiding Shizuka. Akira's avoiding me."

"Lovely. You could always come home."

"Aww. . . Makino! I knew you cared! Tell me how much you miss me and I'll come running."

"As if." I can hear a soft sigh in the background, and I suspect I know whom she's really thinking of.

"How's Tsukasa, these days? Any word on when he might come visit."

"He's. . . I don't know." I know she doesn't like to talk about it, but usually when she doesn't want to admit things she changes the subject or lies. This waffling is not like her at all.

"Makino. Tell me. What's wrong?"

"Ummm. . . well . . ."

"Spit it out, girl!"

She sighs again. I can almost imagine her taking a deep breath and screwing up her courage.

"It's, well. Umm. . . . So I've been lying to you. . . ." Not exactly what I was expecting to here.

"Huh?"

"I didn't really take another job."

"So?" and this is upsetting her why?

"So, I've been, umm. . . I've been studying English instead." Now I'm really confused.

"Makino! You're not making any sense! Start at the beginning!"

And she does, in fits and starts. "Nishikado, you've known me a while now, what would you say my chances of getting into a good university are? Not good. Right? I'm not stupid, but I'm not brilliant either. And even if I were, it wouldn't matter – I go to Eitoku, and we all know that grades are earned by how much your family has contributed to the endowment, and not so much by your brains. I don't want to spend my life in fast food. I don't want to be a factory drone!"

"Makino." I try to interrupt.

"No, don't start. I know I know, I could be a good little wife and stay home and take care of a family—Except, Nishikado, who would I marry?"

"There's always Kazuya."

"I couldn't marry him. And you know as well as I that I will never marry Doumyouji! The best I can hope for is that I will fall out of love with him before he is married off. And that he falls out of love with me." Like that s going to happen, "After all, that's why his mother is keeping us apart."

"Makino, I know that sucks, but what on earth does any of this have to do with learning English?"

"I started thinking, what can I do? Here in Tokyo I'm trapped. There is no way to get ahead. I don't want to end up like my parents, perpetually at the mercy of others. I need to make my own way." Like she's ever done anything else.

"So?"

"So, I'm applying to college in America."

I didn't think there was much left in this world that could shock me. Should have know that Makino would still be full of surprises. "And your English is good enough for that?" I switch to that language to ask the question. I'm sure my doubt shows through.

". . . I hope." Makino admits haltingly, also in English. "I take exam in a week."

"But why?" I switch back to Japanese, "Are you going to try to go to New York? Is this about Tsukasa?"

"No!" She's still trying out her English skills, "Anywhere that takes me. California? Not Tsukasa. For me! You did not hear? . . . no. . listen. You did not listen. " She gives up and switches back to Japanese too, "I don't want to be trapped. What else can I do but try to escape. But, Nishikado, I'm scared! What if I fail? I remember that stupid pageant. I couldn't remember my lines then, what if I freeze up during the test? I can't afford to fail!"

Even if she passes, that still doesn't guarantee that she can get accepted to an American university, but who knows what their standards are like? There's still one thing she hasn't mentioned yet. "Does Tsukasa know?"

"Yeah. . ." She admits in a very small voice. "He might have taken it badly. I think he was expecting me to somehow stay in Eitoku. Maybe he was planning on buying my way in? I told him last night. He seemed upset. . . ."

And that's got to be what's really bothering her. Not the exam. She's faced worse things than that by far. Only Tsukasa could ever upset her so.

"Makino. It can't be that bad. I'm sure he's proud of you. He' s probably just surprised. And you know how he feels about surprises. He'll get over it." He probably takes it as an affront to his ability to take care of Makino. As if she'd ever let him treat her the way he wants to.

"You think?"

"I do. Do you want me to call him anyway?"

"No. . ." Of course she doesn't want me to get involved. She never wants help for anything.

"Did you tell Rui?"

She laughs at that, "Who do you think found me an English teacher in the first place?"

"I should have known." Yet she takes Rui's help with never a question asked.

She hangs up soon after that. I think she's relieved to not be lying to all of us. Though why she feels she has to always hide everything is beyond me.

I lie there in bed and think. Now I really can't sleep. Makino is doing it again, breaking free of the boxes built around her. Or at least trying to break them down. I wonder if leaving Japan was really her idea, or if Rui, clever Rui, insinuated the answer into her spazzy little head. I wonder what it is she thinks she really wants to do with her life.

And then, I wonder, what is it that I would like to do with my life. I've never really thought about it before. I've never been allowed to think about it. What I've been doing these past weeks here in Paris, can I really do this the rest of my life?

I'm good at this. Damned good. The Evil Corporate Suit. I can admit it in the privacy of my own head. I'm efficient, I'm smart, I'm ruthless, scheming, and very, very clever. I do what's best for the company and I never ever let myself think of the employees. How do my actions affect them? What happens to those I downsize? Those who are eliminated in a merger? I don't care. I should be horrified to realize how little I care, but I'm not. I'm numb. Numb all the way through. Already I am trapped. Already I am becoming the man my father is.

What else can I do? What else could I do?

And who could I become if not my father?

Right then, I hate her, hate Makino. Not for the first time either, mind you. I hate her for the way she continually shows me what a coward I am. Her example shames me. It shames Akira, it even shames Tsukasa. No matter how much I could lose, I would never start from the same level as she. And yet I wonder, if I were her, could I claw my way to the top despite It all. And would I want to? The top of what?

I don't know. I just don't know.

Sleep is a long time coming.

--

--uh oh, I've only got 2 chapters left of stuff I wrote before deciding to post this thing. then you'll have to wait who knows how long for updates. Sorry 'bout that. (especially because when it comes to fics in progress my speed of updating is directly proportional to how many reviews inspire me to bother (instead of doing such things as I did this weekend such as going out to a bar and drinking alone (Saturday), crunching numbers in excel to make some data reach significance so the crap-ass paper I'm working on is publishable (Friday), or spending 2 hrs driving to airport and back to help a friend return a rental car (tonight). See, all these ever so much more exciting activities than typing. Pfft! Could be worse, I suppose. At least I didn't have to spend a lovely weekend in the hospital elbow deep in corpse or colons.). oh yeah. Also, I apologize if soujiro's negativity about france offended anyone. Its just fiction people. Fanfic at that.—cm--


	9. eavesdropping and other pleasures

--Oh dear o dear, for them's that's bored by the gratuitous sex, well you'd better to be not reading this fic. I can't write from a teenage boy's perspective and leave out the thing that occupies their minds the most. No really. Going for the verisimilitude here, people, not the smut factor, alas (then I would work harder to make it interesting, not just gratuitous). But if you still want to be reading, but not the boring bits, then skip this chapter and go to the next when it is posted. There is no sex there. But there is here. I cannot win, other fics, people say "cm, where is the sex? Where is the romance?" Here I provide plenty of sex, albeit zero romance, and people say "get on with the plot already." What makes you think I have plot? Warning: this chapter contains a wee little bit of creep factor... –cm--

Tsukasa doesn't answer the next day when I call him. I know she told me not to, but I just can't help myself. I tell myself that it's not because I'm worried about them, but because I'm a born meddler. Hey, it's half-true! Nevertheless, what's the point of meddling if no one's home? It's 10 am New York time, so I know Tsukasa's awake. Maybe in a meeting, but awake. He doesn't answer when I call him at noon and 3 pm either. I'd call Makino and check on her, but she's sure to be asleep. It is after all, 4 am there. I'll give her a few hours and maybe harass her at a more reasonable time. I don't know why I feel the need to bother, but I do and that's just the way it is.

I find myself dozing off for a few hours. I can't help it, I didn't get much sleep last night, and I had a long and tedious day trying to catch up on some of my long-overdue school work. What a waste of a weekend. When I wake, sometime after midnight, I dial Makino's number. She picks up after a few rings, but before she can answer, I am startled to hear a voice, a male voice, in the background.

"Don't answer it!"

"But it's. . . ."

"I don't care who it is! Didn't I just fly all the way out here to see you?" I blink in surprise. It sounds like Tsukasa. Did he really drop everything to fly back to Japan because of what Makino told him? I hear a scuffle, and, more distantly now, Makino's voice.

"Doumyouji! Give it back!" I hear a soft thud, and I'm guessing the phone has hit the ground, or something. "What are you doing! Doumyouji! Oh! Ohhhh . . . ." What started out as cry of outrage fades to a sigh, and then to a low moan.

I do believe that idiot Tsukasa forgot to hang up the phone before tossing it aside. And my, oh my, judging by the rustling sounds and vocalizations I can still distantly hear, he most definitely should have.

Makino is making these whimpers and moans, and I swear I can hear snatches of sappy murmured conversation between the two, thing like "Missed you so much," and "love." But mostly a lot of the unmistakable wet, erotic sounds of flesh on flesh, sighs and grunts.

I know I should have hung up some time ago, and leave the two lovebirds some privacy, but I just don't want to. Who'd have guessed that Makino was actually letting Tsukasa screw her silly? Or by the sounds of it, that this wasn't the first time they'd done this together?

It's wrong, it's oh so wrong for me to listen in, but I don't care. Even without visuals, the sound of my best friend and his girlfriend having sex is very hot. Call me a voyeur, call me a perv, but I'm enjoying this immensely. Quietly, I switch my phone to hands-free, unzip my pants, ease myself out (did I mention just how hard I got simply by listening?), and join in the fun. I figure even if I'm not the epitome of silence, they're way too busy and making too much noise, themselves, to notice.

I speed up my pace as the sounds from the other side of the world become more erratic, the breathing harsher, the mumbled endearments more incoherent. At last, Makino lets out this long, low keening sound as she comes, that at this moment is among one of the hottest things I've ever heard. A few moments later, Tsukasa finishes as well, and I quickly disconnect before they recover their wits and notice the phone again. Free to be as loud as I want, I bring myself off in record time.

What? It's a victimless crime. I don't feel in the slightest bit ashamed or sorry for spying on my friends. I just feel horny as all hell.

I figure Makino will eventually call me back once she and Tsukasa recover (assuming there is no round two, or three, or whatever they're up to now), and I let myself doze off for a little while, while I wait.

The phone finally rings, right as predicted.

"Nishikado! Sorry to disconnect so suddenly, something was wrong with the connection."

"Riight," I have to fight to hold in my snicker, "I thought I heard a guy in the background, before you got 'disconnected'. Who are you messing around with behind Tsukasa's back?"

"Nishikado!" She gasps in outrage, "Get your mind out of the gutter!" There's a pause, and then I hear Tsukasa on the phone, almost as if he's wrested the mobile from Makino's grasp.

"Soujiro! You asshole! What are you doing in fucking Paris? I come all the way out here, and no one's here! The place is totally dead!"

"Hey, dumbass, don't forget your girlfriend!" I hear Makino interject forcefully.

"Why do you think I came here in the first place? Stupid girl!" I can tell this grumbling aside is not directed at me. By the sound of it, Makino heard this remark as well, and is smacking Tsukasa upside his thick head.

"Yeah, Tsukasa, what are you doing there?" I ask, deciding to ignore their little background spat. "Last I heard, your mother had you imprisoned under a mountain of paperwork."

"Yeah well. There's a few execs who're just going to have to reschedule their golf games next week." He doesn't sound the slightest bit contrite at have punted his responsibilities so spectacularly. "Did Makino tell you what she's planning?"

"Sort of."

"And yet you idiots left her to deal with this crap, with only Rui for company?" Ok, so now he's mad at me? What the fuck? I'm here keeping Akira out of trouble, only I can't tell Tsukasa that.

"Hey! She told me yesterday! What do you expect me to do? You're her boyfriend! And it's not like she's alone, there's Rui, and Shigeru, and Kazuya. Don't blame me if she keeps secrets from us. Besides, sounds like you've got it covered. . . . What are you doing there anyway?"

"Moral support." He grunts, "You think I'm letting her sit around all week spazzing? Not a chance in hell."

"Aww. . . . that's so sweet." I mock, safe from his retaliation, half a world away.

"Fuck off."

"I think I'll leave that to you two." I mutter under my breath, and say louder, "Let me talk to Makino again."

"Fine, you have two minutes," He grumbles, "and then you and I are going to have words."

"Hey, Makino." I start as she comes back on the line. "I take it he wasn't actually mad then?"

"No," she demurs, "I guess not."

"Well," I laugh, "At least now you know how to get him to drop everything and come running next time you're feeling lonely." Or horny.

"Yeah." She laughs nervously, "It's a little unexpected." I can see why she'd be a little unnerved by his irresponsibility, but he has always been unreasonable when it comes to her.

"Enjoy it while you can." I advise, "And good luck on your exam. Don't let Tsukasa distract you too much from your studies."

"Thanks." And with that, Tsukasa takes control of the phone again, and we chat for a while, catching up on the latest international gossip, etc. I hope Makino's not too proud to let Tsukasa pay the bill for this call.

At last, I hang up, feeling oddly reassured that all is well in the world.

This night sleep finds me with no trouble at all.

--

A day or two later, I'm at dinner with Akira. Things are looking up; he's finally decided to forgive me. I think it must have something to do with his new girlfriend, a petite brunette with the cutest smattering of freckles across her nose. Best of all she's only a few years older than him and not married. For once. Apparently, during the two weeks that I didn't see him, he was off with her in the Riviera, lounging around and gambling away his father's money.

But they're back now, and being all cutesy at the table, so much that I want to gag. I mean, sure I'm happy that Akira is out of his rut, but do I really need to watch him acting so lovey-dovey and shit? When he takes a moment to go to the bathroom, His chicky takes the opportunity to interrogate me about what I think about him, and inform me that he's just the sweetest guy ever, and would I like to meet her friend, 'cause if I'm anything like Akira then her friend would just love me to pieces. Yeesh!

I tolerate it because it's good to see Akira smiling again, but I make my excuses as soon as I can without offending him, and set off to find myself some more straightforward entertainment.

I cruise the higher-class clubs for a while, making small talk with other rich bored people, catching up on the latest gossip of the social scene. There's a rumor going around, and people are starting to ask me what I think, wherever I go. Why ask me? Because the rumor involves the scintillating Ms. Toudou, of course. Shizuka. Well, more like her damnfool beau of the moment, who seems to have learnt nothing from the mistakes of his predecessors. Alas. I knew things were looking up too prematurely. With life seemingly going right for Makino and Akira, it was only a matter of time before I'd be called upon to pay the price. How exactly is that fair?

I take a deep breath, and another sip of whiskey. Shizuka hasn't called yet, but I can bet she will tomorrow. Once these rumors get started, they get acted on lest the principle players look like fools. Not that the guy is going to look like any less of a fool when I start parading around with Shizuka like a good little lapdog.

Guess I'd better live up these last few hours of freedom while I can. I know for sure that it wouldn't look good for me to play Shizuka's boy on the side, and still have my own flings. Seriously, it would make Ms. Perfect look bad, and we couldn't have that. She'd have my balls on a silver plate for that sort of transgression. Yeesh. Not to mention that then, my father would find out for sure, and there would be even worse kinds of hell to pay. But I am not going to think about that now.

Almost at random, I pick up a curvaceous blonde girl from the bar. I'm a little worried at first that she's not my usual type, being almost bashful and shy, but she's certainly willing to go back to a hotel with me, nonetheless.

I know I've chosen well, when upon entering the room, she starts to undress with an almost striptease-like slinkiness, loosing her long blonde tresses to cascade over her shoulders and down her back; unbuttoning her shirt so slowly and deliberately, with her back half-turned from me. The little minx caresses her breasts through her bra, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes, and steps out of her skirt.

I slowly and deliberately begin to strip as well, giving her almost as good a show as she's giving me. She gives my cock an appreciate glance and licks her lips oh so suggestively. She struts to the bed, kicks off her heels and crawls onto the mattress. Her well-padded ass juts boldly in the air as she spreads her legs slightly and beckons me to her.

I'm not saying no to that. She continues to fondle her own breasts as I kneel behind her, pull her thong out of my way and forcefully enter her. She is so very wet and ready and thrusts back against me with an almost animalistic force. Who knew such a quiet-seeming girl could be such a wildcat in the sack? I grasp her hips for better leverage and fuck her until she screams in pleasure. We pass the night in bout after bout of sex. Sometimes rough and hard and fast, and sometimes slow and deep. In between, we nap, but every time I wake, she's already awake and attacking my body. And I am so not about to complain. She's good, damned good. But finally I reach the point where I simply cannot come another time. I got no problem getting it up at least, but I am sore and a little chafed, so it has to end.

I fall asleep for a few hours, and when I wake, she's sitting cross-legged on the bed, nude, staring at me as if she's never seen me before.

"Morning." I grin at her, but she only murmurs an almost inaudible response. Oh crap. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts about last night?" I question. I just don't want to deal with that shit, and besides, bloody hell, she sure wasn't complaining at the time.

"No. . .It's not that." She looks down at her hands, "I don't know if I should tell you. . . ."

"Tell me what?" I'm starting to get a little panicked, maybe Akira was right and I finally fucked a girl whose going to give me a disease.

She sighs, and starts to blush, "I've never been the type to jump a random stranger. My friends always laugh at me, and tell me I'm a fool. Why would anyone want to sleep with me? I'm fat and my last three boyfriends told me I was crap in bed. But I saw you there last night, and you looked at me like I was pretty. And I thought, ok, I'll take a chance. I didn't want to be me anymore. Boring, and scared and alone. . . And it worked. It worked!" She's smiling now and I am confused as all shit. Is she insane? At least she's not telling me she's got the clap. "It was good, wasn't it?"

"Are you shitting me? It wasn't just good. That was some great sex! Do you have any idea what you did to me?" I'll probably be sore for days. And where does she get off thinking she's fat? Curvaceous, perhaps, Rubenesque at worst. Hardly fat.

She smiles even more widely. "No one's ever said that to me before! But don't you see. I thought I was doomed to be me. Boring unattractive me. But you've made me see the light. I can be anything I want to be. I don't have to be the invisible girl anymore.

"Babe, no one who met you could forget you. Honestly." Girls are weird. Maybe this one escaped from an asylum or something. Fucking space cadet. But damn good in bed. Remembering last night has already got my cock stirring, despite the turnoff of the girl's obvious insanity.

"Thank you! Thank you so much! S. . . S. . shit! I'm sorry, I can't remember your name." She cringes guiltily as I laugh.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, babe. Come here." I beckon lasciviously at her and shut her up with a kiss. A little while later, I'm fucking her up against the wall of the shower, her ass soapy and slippery in my hands, her breasts rubbing against my chest, and my balls slapping against her. She's writhing and moaning and all her babbling is forgotten as I bring her to climax again. Even better, it turns out that I guess I have one more orgasm left in me too.

Afterwards when I go home and get cleaned up for real, I realize that I don't know her name either.

It doesn't matter. But what I'm really trying to figure out as I scrub the smell of sex off, is whether I should be impressed by the way she chose to turn her life around, or dismayed at the stupid thing she chose to rebel against. In the end, I guess I feel a little of both, though I'm afraid my dismay may really stem from the fact that I have never rebelled at all against anything. Not really.

Maybe I should start paying more attention to the examples around me. Maybe I should reconsider who I am, and what I want?

That doesn't mean I'm going to change by giving up sex. No fucking way.

ToBeContinued.

-sorry for the gratuitous sex. (No, actually, I'm not really sorry but it is the polite thing to say.) I just double checked, and no, there's none in the next chapter. yet. And probably not the one after that, either. Instead, plot. Sortof. Inasmuch as this fic has any sort of plot. –cm--


	10. Charity

As expected, later that day I get the call from Shizuka. She wants me to meet her at some charity event. Her beau will also be there, so she wants to be seen publicly flirting with me, and dancing with me. At least I won't be expected to fuck her. Not that that would be terrible, mind you. I mean, that body of hers is to die for! But, I think Rui might kill me. And besides, I'm still feeling chafed from last night's activities.

I finish my work up, and survey my wardrobe. I'm trying to decide if I want to pretend to be the slightly edgy rebellious youth, or the serious but sexy corporate stud? Maybe I should go with spoiled bratty rich kid? That would probably piss off Shizuka's boy the most, to see her flirting with an obnoxious brat. Sadly, I doubt it would be believable behavior for her. She is after all, known for her refined taste in all things. In the end, I decide to go with Serious but Sexy Corporate Stud, and choose my suit accordingly.

I know I look damned fine as I stride into the ballroom of the hotel, surveying the glittering herd of socialites below. A mass of tailored suits and fitted gowns. Bejeweled necks and arms and fingers and even cufflinks sparkling in the light of chandeliers. Such hypocrites. Them and Me. We're here at a fucking charity event we spent a few hundred Euros to attend. But do we really care about the donation, or are we here to be seen? If we cared, we'd just donate the money directly to the cause of our choice, rather than this farce. At least I admit that I am here to be seen, and don't pretend that the gift of my father's money meant anything to anyone.

Shit. What is wrong with me? I can't keep having thoughts like this, if I want to continue to live my life comfortably. I can't allow myself the luxury of doubt.

I spot Shizuka across the room and make my way to her, meeting and greeting people who I promptly forget as I move by. I do note that there is a lot of fine cleavage on display tonight, but none as fine as Shizuka's. Damn, but that neckline is low! I swear if she breathes too deep, I'll be playing peek-a-boo with her nipples. And I am so not complaining.

She greets me with a kiss on both cheeks, and takes my arm, with a smile and a breathy, "Thank you for coming! Have you met Francois?" Still holding my arm, she gestures at her beau. I have met him, several times in fact, and she knows it, but is pretending otherwise. I think she may be laying it on a little thick, as she turns to him and introduces me as, "Her very dear friend." Francois looks put out, to say the least, and from the twitching fingers in his pocket, I'm guessing that he's already bought an engagement ring. What a fool.

I am mildly surprised to realize that I actually pity the man.

Shizuka and I chat awhile, and it's less annoying than I thought it would be. I mean, after all, we are old friends of a sort, and I'm used to the way we banter familiarly, like she always has with the F4. She always has been a physical person, like a force of nature (perhaps the force that motivates a breezy summer's day, but a force nonetheless), so it's easy to stand there and talk, accepting the way she pats my arm when making a point, standing closer than absolutely necessary, and appearing to give me the whole of her attention. Francois notices and his disgruntlement only grows when she excuses us to go introduce me to some of her other friends.

"Aren't you laying it on a bit thick?" I murmur under my breath as we navigate our way across the room.

"Oh no." And she tinkles her amused little laugh, "The poor boy is more than a little oblivious."

"And why don't you just dump him outright, before he proposes?" I question. It shouldn't be that hard to do.

She shrugs gracefully, "That's just not the way it's done."

I will never understand women.

She leaves me with a group of overly-painted middle aged dowagers. Yeesh. Who does she think I am, Akira? But, the simple fact is these women are the best gossipers around. If by best you mean most talkative and willing and eager to perpetuate the rumor mill and spread scandal around. So I chat and acknowledge that, yes, Shizuka and I have been good friends, very good friends all our lives, and that now that my business in France is calming down we will be seeing more of each other, if you know what I mean. They giggle and titter and I can just see them overflowing with the urge to run and tell all their friends about Shizuka's other interest—Me.

Fortunately, they are forced to stand quietly a while longer while my wild story simmers and grows in their little brains. It is time for the speeches part of the event. How dull. Where the organizers tell us how glad they are they could fleece us for the price of admission and if we would please be so kind as to individually give a more substantial amount then we will be rewarded with our names engraved on a little brass plaque somewhere in some rural schoolhut in the middle of Africa (at least until said plaque is melted down to provide bullets for the next war or genocide). Also, there is the so-called human interest presentation, given by Shizuka (did I mention that she was involved in organizing this event?), in which she talks about the plight of some village no one has ever heard of with the population afflicted by war and disease and crop failure and starvation and just general shittiness. No really, such people actually exist. And Shizuka is a good speaker, bringing their plight to life, making us bored, rich, spoiled and pampered socialites care. At least for a few moments. I even see some of the ladies around me wiping a tear from their eyes. My god.

Shizuka concludes with an impassioned plea as to how they need all our help, anything and everything we could give would be so appreciated and go so far. I have to suppress a snort. What these people she wants to help need is not charity dispensed from above. They need infrastructure, communications systems, better roads, electricity, money, technology. Social stability. And whatever handouts we may give them tonight from this event will lead to none of that. A shipment of meds is useless without a fridge to store them in, or a medic to dispense them. A load of food only lasts so long and won't lead to the fields being planted because all the men are dead from the last war.

Nevertheless, Shizuka is a good speaker, and she cares about her cause in that loftily abstract way of hers, so I can't think badly of her for failing to grasp the big picture. Hell, maybe she does, but can't see a way to deal with it, so has surrendered to convenient complicity with the rest of the big blind world.

The speeches over with, the buffet is spread and I meander over, stopping on the way to give Shizuka a hug and a kiss on the cheek and an enthusiastic congratulations on her great presentation. She hugs me back, her lips lingering slightly longer than necessary on my cheek.

"That was a lovely speech." I murmur huskily into her ear, just loud enough that one or two of the nearby bystanders can hear my words, "What man wouldn't be moved to tears by the sound of your voice?"

"Oh, Soujiro." She lifts her lips in a slow, sensuous smile full of erotic promise. "You must let me tell you all about our future work! Over dinner, tomorrow, perhaps?"

It is an order, not a request. And, like the good little lapdog I am, I acquiesce with a nod and a leer that would make a lesser woman come on the spot.

I can see the ripples of this gossip start to spread through the room over the remainder of the evening. Still. Shizuka's hapless beau remained oblivious. Perhaps he's been hypnotized by Shizuka's diamonds? Or stunned by her pearly white teeth? Whatever the case may be, I can see that it will be a harder job than I anticipated to rid Shizuka of this parasite.

Oh well, I was getting bored of Paris anyway, maybe this will spice things up a little?

ToBeContinued

--sorry, another short chapter, and the end of what I had already written. Alas! This means the plot may start to wander even more. I'll try to constrain it though, as best I can. – cm--


End file.
